Broccoli and Q
by Adenil
Summary: What whould happen if Q and Barclay where stuck together in room?
1. Chapter 1

Broccoli and Q:

Authors notes:

For before you read it:

Broccoli and Q is about two of the most disliked characters in star trek. At least, according to everyone I know; Reginald Barclay and, of course, the infamous Q.

Rating: T, must be at least 14, okay?

Why: Mild Swearing, potential violence, funky relationships, strange freaky people, and girl scouts.

Quick description:

Broccoli and Q is about what would happen if Q and Barclay got stuck together in a house, with virtually no other contact, except to keep them alive. It's got some hidden and not so hidden plots. Some of the plot may be exposed, some may not. The story could, and probably will, be hard to follow at times, just because that's the way I write.

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Barclay walked down the corridors of the _Enterprise_ with speed. He was not worried. Oh no, not him. He wasn't late for an important staff meeting; Commander LaForge was not going to be mad at him. Deanna would not be upset by this set back (even if she didn't show it, he could tell. Those eyes may be pure black, but they still showed a lot of expression). Data would definitely make no unintentional comment. And Wes would certainly not refer to the name "Broccoli" again.

He might be a little worried.

Absently he tapped the spot on his neck Deanna had showed him. It usually helped him relieve stress, but today he couldn't shake the feeling something worse than a sub-par report was going to happen.

And then quite suddenly, a single hand covered his mouth as a simultaneous arm pulled him….

Into a wall.

He felt like screaming, but the hand barely allowed him breath. He closed his eyes, trying to remember his self defense training, wishing he hadn't slept through so many classes.

A voice sounded in his ear, rather loud and obnoxious. It reminded him of someone. The voice was obviously male, and Barclay guessed the man to be about 6' 2", relatively muscular, with brown hair, blue eyes, and a somewhat spotty complexion.

Good thing he hadn't slept through all the classes.

"Don't scream," the voice said. "Not that anyone can hear you, the _Enterprise _is several thousand light years away right now."

Barclay looked around, surprised; a small dimly lit room greeted him. The furniture consisted of two chairs (both a lovely shade of lavender), and a somewhat matching blue couch. The walls were tan with red wood highlights. There was tile covering the floor in a blue-green sea with artfully arranged carpets dotting the landscape.

He felt like laughing.

The person was talking. "All right, I am letting go now." He quickly let go of Barclay, who promptly fell over in a heap.

"What did y-you do?" he asked, turning to face his assailant.

"None of your- oh wait, it is your business. Well…" The man stared at him. "You know of the Q, I suppose?"

A nod from Barclay confirmed this.

"Well, then you know of THE Q. The one who came and harassed you people?"

More nods.

"Well, good, it is now your job to teach him about Humanity."

"WHAT????"

"Well, we figured he's done such a bad job of learning that we'd just stick him with someone who knows what they're talking about and see what happens. He'll be semi-powerless, of course."

"B-but, I'm no expert at h-humanity. I barely get by as it is."

The Q (for by now that's obviously what it was) shrugged. "So, you're the most objective, and smart for your kind, too. Picard was our next choice, but he and Q got along too well. We couldn't do Data because, technically he's not human. You just didn't interact with him at all, so neither of you knows what to expect from the other. At least, not really." He shrugged.

"Bu-"

"Okay, bye for now."

And Q was gone.

Of course, seven seconds later Q appeared to take his place. Barclay stared at him from his position on the floor.

And Q stared back.

For about ten minutes it wasn't very interesting, then:

"I DON'T BELIEVE IT!" Q roared.

Barclay gulped. "B-believe what?" he managed to stammer.

"THAT THEY PAIRED ME WITH, WITH, with, well, with you." He tapered off as Barclay merely flinched away from him.

"S-sorry," Barclay murmured. "I didn't choose this job." He shivered a bit. The room was rather cold. "And I'm going to be in so much trouble, I was already very late for my shift."

Q glared. Then his expression went back to that 'you're-such-a-cute-petty-little-mortal' look.

"Q obviously didn't explain things very well." He sighed in melodramatic exasperation. "This room, actually this HOUSE is out of time restraint. When you go back, no time will have passed." He scowled. "But that also means I'm stuck here until you hurry up and teach me this lesson I'm supposed to learn!"

Barclay had managed to stand up by now. He made use of this by scurrying away to stand behind the farthest lavender chair. "I can't teach you w-what I don't know," he practically whispered.

Q was glad his body was equipped with exceptional hearing, but not overly so. "You don't KNOW?" he said angrily, "Why would they be so stupid as to send me an incompetent teacher?" He glared at Barclay, silently wishing he had his powers so as to make Barclay's head explode.

But it didn't, so Q slipped absentmindly into sarcasm mode.

"But of course, the great and powerful Reg Broccoli could not stoop so low as to not know something. He may not tell you he knows, but watch out! He knows!"

Barclay was surprised; he had never really claimed to be great and/or powerful, _//And how does Q know my name? Oh, duh, he's Q//_ "I never said I was much of anything." He sighed as he felt his fleet self defense training kick in. //_Better late then never_// he thought grimly. "But it doesn't matter, why am I here? I can't teach you anything you don't want to learn. Surely the other Q knows that. And anyway why-"

Q interrupted him. "Shut up. I think this is supposed to be a mutual learning experience. Or something, I wasn't paying too much attention at the meeting. When they said they were teaching me about the race I was supposed to be teaching them about, I naturally figured they would pair me with Picard, and he's not so bad once you get to know him."

"He scares the living daylights out of me."

Q was surprised at this latest, but refused to let his shock show. "Well, good. You think far too much of yourself, I'm sure."

Barclay surprised himself: "Shut up, I don't care, I'm out of here."

Barclay glared at Q for several seconds, thinking; _//I could take you with one hand tied behind my back// _But then his strength dissolved. He slumped slightly. "Sorry, can you please explain to me what's going on?"

Q shook his head. "No, I'm not allowed to. No more than has already been said. Besides I've… forgotten most of it." He stopped talking and stared. Then started again. "But anyway, now that we're here, we might as well get used to each other. I call first bedroom!"

He turned and dashed out of the room. Barclay stared, and then followed. Q bounded up several flights of stairs, opened the door at the top and slipped in. The door snapped shut behind him.

Barclay took his time, worriedly observing his surroundings. The rest of the house seemed to have been put together by a hippie. Swirly colors and shag rugs greeted him everywhere he looked. To his left were wood bookshelves and stands, while to his right everything was cold harsh metal. He thought he smelled something sweet, vaguely like burning bananas. When he got to the top of the stairs, he hesitated, and then knocked on the door.

"What?" said an exasperated Q from the other side.

"W-where are the other rooms?"

"All along the hallway, now go away."

Barclay nodded at the silverish door, and decided against asking where anything else was today. Especially not the kitchen. He wasn't very hungry anyway. Though he vaguely remembered not eating for several days…

He looked in each door, astounded at how badly each one was decorated. As though a blind Klingon had decided to go pastel, and mauve. For some reason the house was very mauve oriented. Each room had different lighting. The first four where draped in dramatic reds and blues, while the last had normal lighting.

He choose the farthest room. It was slightly more tastefully designed, and the lighting actually accentuated the room. Only one color was prominent, blue, with maybe a few silver overtones. So he took off his boots, locked the door, and collapsed on the bed. He wondered, for a while, what Q was doing in his room. And then decided, that, no, it wasn't his business, really. He rolled over and promptly fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Barclay woke up the next morning to, well, actually to nothing. He had had simply awful dreams in which Q ate his brains. But now, for some reason, he was sure it would all be good. In fact he felt like singing. But he remembered the one time he'd tried karaoke, and promptly discarded that idea.

Feeling perfectly well was a new experience for him. So he chalked it up to the fact that time no longer existed for him, got up, and wandered downstairs to look for the kitchen.

He wandered into the first room he came to, and a disgruntled Q looked up from what appeared to be the Continuum Times. "Ah, I see. You're feeling awfully happy this morning as well?"

Barclay still didn't feel overly confident talking, so he nodded instead.

"It's this damn house. Everyone who's ever been in it has left with a brand new outlook on 'life'," he scowled. "Except me, I don't live, so how can I have an outlook on life?"

Barclay shook his head. "What do you mean? You sure look like you live."

"That's not entirely what I mean. I mean I don't experience life."

"Oh, okay," Barclay said nervously filing that away for future reference. "Unfortunately, I do. Is there a kitchen in this place?"

"You're standing in it." Q gestured about them grandly. The kitchen reminded Barclay of something he'd seen on an old video. What was it? Oh, Emeril Live. He was brought out of his thoughts by Q.

"Before you, you see the kitchen of Q. Please, enjoy. And make me some damn eggs."

Barclay didn't feel like questioning Q this morning. He glanced around, and decided it was, in fact, a kitchen, and not some host's show. He wandered to the fridge, opened it and pulled out an eighteen pack of eggs.

He located a pan, oil, the stove, and set out making eggs the only way he knew how. Scrambled.

At the same time he made bacon, and toast, and found a gallon of vanilla soy milk. He set the table as Q watched him with an odd look on his face. When he set the plate down in front of Q, full of food, Q stared with open amazement.

"You actually cooked breakfast!?"

"Uh, yes. W-was I not supposed to?" Barclay was hit with the notion he had done something wrong.

"No, of course not. People generally don't make breakfast for those who have tormented them in the past." Q shook his head in wonder, and took a bite of the eggs and toast. He shook his head and got up, retrieving a large bottle of Tabasco sauce from some drawer or another. He dumped most of it on his food and grinned, taking his time finishing the rest.

Barclay, on the other hand, practically inhaled his food. He had lied to himself when he said he wasn't hungry last night. After all, after three days one gets a bit hungry. He wondered why he hadn't been able to eat until now, and tried to take his time. But because of his rate of consumption, he ended up sitting around for ten minutes while Q finished his meal.

Barclay stared for a while, but as the silence became oppressive, he said, "So? What now?"

Q shrugged and continued to eat, saying nothing.

Barclay sighed. "I think we should talk about this mutual problem."

Q shook his head. "No, I'm supposed to 'learn' so, tell me a story." He grinned innocently. "Pretty please?"

Barclay thought for a second. "When I was very young, I think seven or eight, I decided to cook breakfast for my parents. I thought it would be a nice surprise for them. So I took out the eggs and started to crack them into the pan. We had eleven eggs, so I decided to make all of them. Even if we couldn't eat them it would have been stupid to have one extra egg." He sighed "S-so I started to crack the eggs into a bowl so I could scramble them. That's the only way I know how to cook eggs, is scrambled. So I had cracked ten eggs, and, I." He glanced up at Q, who was staring at him as he sipped his milk. "I cracked open the last egg and a bird thing came out."

Q burst out laughing. "A bird?" He grinned. "No wonder you're so messed up."

Barclay shrugged. "I didn't know what to do, this had never happened before. So I pulled the bird thing out and finished cooking the eggs."

"What!?" Q laughed. "You actually fed your parents that?"

Barclay nodded with a small; almost smile "They said it was the best eggs ever. I never told them what happened."

Q finished his food. "Oh that's great." He grinned. "I don't suppose you have any other traumatizing stories?"

Barclay shook his head "Not yet Q. We'll see."

So they sat in somewhat companionable silence for a while. Then Q said, "Well, we should probably see where we are."

"I thought you knew where we were?"

"I know were in this house. But don't know where the house is."

"Oh…Kay then."

Q leapt up and shoved the plates into a nearby sink. "For later," he muttered, crossing the room to Barclay. He grabbed him by the arm and pulled him from the chair.

"W-what? Let me go!" Barclay struggled, but found Q's grip unrelenting.

Q dragged him out the door into the living room. He crossed to a glass plated door, opened the door and pushed Barclay out. "Is it safe?" he asked nonchalantly as Barclay crashed into the dirt.

Barclay spit out a mouth full of grime and stood up. Looking around, he said, "I think so, but I've never seen anything like this…" The grass around the house extended for several meters, then broke off gently into what could only be described as…. Well, nothing.

Q nodded. "I see it all the time, quite common in the continuum really. Only happens when a Q is too lazy to complete the assigned task." He grinned. "It happens to me all the time."

Barclay looked around again. "So, what, this is it. Nothing? A house and some grass." He crossed his arms in genuine anger. "That's such a let down."

Q looked as though he might say something, but stopped as a dirt path appeared beneath his feet. It was followed by the sounds of singing, and in the distance a small figure could be seen walking towards them.

It took the figure considerably less time to reach them than it would have normally. And, Barclay noted with surprise, it appeared to be a Girl Scout with a wheelbarrow full of cookie boxes. Barclay thought she looked familiar, but couldn't place her brown-haired-blue-eyed appearance.

"Hello, Sirs!" she said joyously as she approached them. "I wish to offer you some cookies, would you be kind enough to hear my speech?"

And before either of them could form an answer she launched into a barrage of cookie-selling.

"While attempting to raise money for funds that will go to…"

"Wait…" Q said, several times, but to no avail. She continued to jabber on.

"And you see, if you act now you can get a special 3 for 2 deal, available only to members in your immediate area…"

"Wait…no, wait… Wait…."

"And that's not all! If you purchase twenty or more boxes, I'll throw in this FREE pencil! Look, it lights up, perfect for writing in the dark. It also functions as a frying pan and spatula…"

"WILL YOU SHUT UP!!!!!!?" Q exploded

The girl's mouth slammed shut. She looked at him in awe, and then she bit her lip, and quivered. In a few seconds she was bawling like a baby who lost its mother.

"Q!" Barclay said, astounded. "You didn't need to make her cry." He knelt on the ground next to her. "Don't worry; he's not as bad as he looks, honest."

She sniffled and glanced up at him. "Sorry, I got in 'the salesperson groove' and couldn't stop talking." She sniffled again.

Q frowned. "I… apologize?" He looked at Barclay, who nodded. "I did not mean to cause upset, we would be happy to buy your… cookies, but we have no," he paused, "currency…what's your problem?"

She looked at him. "Oh, no money? Sorry to have bothered you, then." She leapt up, grabbed her wheelbarrow and disappeared.

"She recovered rather fast!" Barclay exclaimed.

"Yeah, did she seem….Familiar to you?" Q looked at Barclay quizzically.

Barclay nodded, "Yeah, but that's not surprising, I'm sure the other Q would use images from both our pasts in this illusion."

Q looked around in surprise, he hadn't thought of that. "You're right, wow." He shifted a bit to the left, away from Barclay. "How'd you get so smart all of a sudden?"

Barclay looked at Q and grinned maniacally, "I'm just that good." He turned and walked back up to the house, closing the glass door behind him.

Q gaped, and then turned to where the Girl Scout had been. The path still remained, but to him it appeared to have faded slightly. He squinted, and knelt down to touch the ground. It gave beneath his fingers to more nothingness; he quickly rose and wandered into the house.

"Strange," he murmured to himself. "She seemed more familiar than just someone from the past. Odd." He frowned as he opened the door, "But then, I shouldn't talk about odd." He walked in, the door squeaking shut behind him.

Barclay appeared at his side. "Q?"

"Mmm? Oh, what?"

"Bathroom?"

"Down the stairs, to your left, first door on the right."

Barclay sprinted off.

"Oh, well," Q shrugged, sitting on the hideous blue couch. "Plenty of time to wonder about Girl Scouts." He sighed. "Plenty of time."

So, yeah, WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT!!!!!??1??? I certainly dont know, Review and find out!


	3. Chapter 3

"Q! Q!" Barclay shook Q, trying to rouse him from his sleep, wondering what the heck he just saw happen.

Q opened his eyes; Barclay was staring at him from several inches away. "What?"

"Are you okay, Q?" Barclay said worriedly.

"Of course. Why?" Q looked at the couch, wondering how he could have fallen asleep on such an awful piece of furniture.

"Because, when you where asleep, you sort of, faded in and out of existence. It was creepy." Barclay was obviously weirded out.

"Worry not, Reg, Q do that occasionally. I fell asleep, so my control over this form drifted." He smiled almost comfortingly. "Now, if I explode, THEN you can worry. Till then, don't expend precious brain cells attempting to comprehend the ways of the Q."

Barclay stared. Then stared some more. "Okay, exploding, gotcha." He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "…..Q?"

"Yes, what?"

"Why, would the other Q put a Girl Scout in this illusion…? If we have no money?"

Q opened his mouth several times before answering. "Well, maybe there is money in this house somewhere." He shrugged, standing up. "Let's have a look. Top to bottom, Lieutenant," he said as sarcastically as possible, for a Q.

Barclay looked at Q oddly, shaking his head slightly. "Yes, _sir,_" he said sarcastically. "I'll take first floor and basement, _sir._" He marched towards the stairs.

Q was quite stunned. "They told me he was a wimp…" he said to himself.

"I heard that!" Barclay said as he descended the stairs.

Q just shook his head and walked up the stairs, looking for any money Q might have left lying around.

Meanwhile, Barclay was questioning his judgment. He couldn't understand why he had reacted that way to Q's statement. He'd never acted that way _at all_ except on the holodeck once or twice. He sighed. //_Oh well ,I suppose it's more of this house working its creepy magic.// _He wandered around the basement, looking everywhere for any money that may be lying around, wondering if his idea had been correct, even in the slightest. He even checked under the couch cushion. The _ugly_ couch cushion. This cushion was plaid, the others were mauve, polka dots (yellow over green), and carnival stripes. He only managed to produce some lint. He shook his head. The Q were good enough to include lint, but not land for the house to sit on?

He knew one thing, though; he hated Q. He understood why Geordi, and Data, and the others, had always spoken of him in contempt. There was just something about him that made him decidedly unlikable. "Maybe it's his stupid contempt for the entire human species, and all other humanoids, but if that's true, why would he want to study us, forgetting that he tried to condemn humanity. He must have some capacity to learn, whatever it is I'm supposed to _already know_…. Why is it always me?" He pulled open another drawer, sighing, and then grinned as he pulled out a wallet. It was full to brimming with old style Earth currency. Perfect.

Barclay pocketed the wallet, and walked upstairs to look for Q. "Q!?"

"What?" Barclay heard Q's shout coming from up stairs.

"Oy! I found money!" Barclay walked up the stairs, and gaped. Q had completely torn apart the hallway. Every drawer was open, its contents spilling over the floor. Again, Barclay was amazed at the Q's attention to detail. There were trinkets and pictures Barclay recognized as being from his own room on the Enterprise. However, he didn't have time to wonder about that.

"Really? How much?" Q stopped searching through the bookshelf, the empty bookshelf. Barclay saw the books scattered halfway across the hallway, in a jumbled, half-oriented heap.

"I dunno, couple hundred maybe. Q, what have you done to the hallway."

"I was looking for money." Q said, as though it was obvious.

"Yes, but you… you've simply torn this place apart!" Barclay gestured around them, from the half empty stands, to what could only be considered trash lining the floor.

"So?"

"SO!? Look at this mess!" Barclay couldn't believe anyone would be so short sighted, even Q. "Someone has to clean this up!"

But Q merely shrugged, "It'll get cleaned up… eventually." He smiled calmly. "_Right?_"

Barclay glared, heck, he dang near snarled at Q. "Yes, it will Q, because _you_ are going to clean it up."

Q shrugged, "Meh, when I get around to it."

Barclay simply couldn't take it; he shook his head in awe. He quickly stepped around the objects in his path, reaching his room without serious injury. "Q, please." He turned to face Q, who was unfazed. In fact, Q had gone back to tearing up the bookshelf, literally pulling nails out of it. Barclay sighed, and wandered into his room. After closing the door, he surveyed that apparently, Q hadn't gotten this far yet. "All's the better." He shook off his boots and sat on the bed, taking stock of his situation.

"Well, the Q are sending us people to purchase things from. This is good because this house has no replicators, so we'd be hungry in less than a week… And I really need a change of clothes." He groaned and collapsed backwards on the bed. "This is…" he sighed. Suddenly he grinned, laughing, "This is fun!"

----

(I now know how to end the story!)


	4. Chapter 4

Barclay was running through the halls of the Enterprise, or at least, what appeared to be the Enterprise. Even as he ran, the walls twisted and darkened. He heard all of his old nightmares, wrapped up into one. Then new voices came. Voices he somehow knew to be of the Q spoke.

"He's condemned us all!" One shouted.

"He will be punished!"

"Destroyed!" Many said.

"He must be tortured as we were! Kill him!" Another said triumphantly, earning many cheers from his darkened comrades.

Barclay gasped as dark, shadowy hands closed around him, drawing him through the ship's hull, hurling him into space.

And he died….

… Only to wake up on the bed, panting, a cold sweat dripping down the back of his shirt. He gasped once at the darkness, imagining it closing around him. He scrambled up, running to the light switch. He flipped the switch, bathing the room in light. Nice, artificial, heavenly, light. The disgusting, heavy blue overtones neither added nor took away from his joy at being awake.

After a few more ragged breaths, Barclay managed to calm down. He felt his nightmare slipping away, and after a brief consideration, let it slip from his memory.

He sighed, slumping to the floor, and after many minutes of shivering, he fell asleep, this time with the light all around him.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning he awoke without incident. In fact, he awoke wondering why he was lying on the floor. Barclay stretched his stiff muscles, standing up slowly. He sighed.

"Isn't this house supposed to make everyone happy? Why do I feel like crap?"

Truth be told, Barclay remembered nothing of the previous night. He remembered going to bed, and Q's incessant stupidity. But not his dream.

So, he carefully opened the door, and was pleased to see that Q's mess was gone.

He entered the kitchen; Q was in the same spot as yesterday, again reading the latest version of the Continuum Times. However, Barclay noticed that the front page news was unchanged, except for the date. Odd.

"Thanks for taking care of your mess, Q." He slid into a seat at the table.

Q didn't look up from his paper, he just nodded and said, "I may be annoying, but even I can't stand a mess lying around like that."

Barclay nodded, "Okay, then."

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Barclay and Q looked up at each other. "Another salesman?" Q asked.

They stood and went into the main room, opening the door.

The man before them was not human; he was more Klingon than anything. Except for his strange, piercing blue eyes, the rest of him was Klingon normalcy.

"Hello?" Barclay said quizzically when the man didn't speak right away.

The man ground his teeth, "I am Maim, and I am selling." At this point he growled in a frustrated manner, "Gardening supplies."

Q snickered, but managed to hide his more obvious amusement. "Sorry, Maim, we don't need gardening supplies, see we have no garden."

"I also sell…" Again, the growl, "Seeds."

"Well we don't need-"

"I would like to see your seed stock, please." Barclay interrupted at the Klingon's growl of disapproval.

Maim nodded, and pulled a box seemingly out of nowhere. In it were all kinds of seeds, mostly earth type plants, but a few Vulcan were also present.

Barclay nodded, "Yes, all of them."

Maims eyes widened, as did Q's.

"All of them!? How much of my money are you planning to spend on… _seeds?_"

Barclay glared at Q, pulling the wallet out, "It's my money; after all I did find it, you only succeeded in tearing the place apart, not in finding anything useful."

"I disagree, I found plenty of interesting things," Q shrugged. "But, go ahead."

Barclay wondered at Q's statement, but handed Maim $75.63 when he asked for it.

Maim quickly dumped the box on Barclay, who struggled against the weight. "Anything else?" he half-snarled.

"Err, no, this is all."

Maim nodded, and disappeared.

Barclay relaxed and slumped under the weight of the box. He stepped back into the house, plopping the box on the nearest ugly chair. He puffed out a breath. "Q?"

"What?" Q stood near him, his arms crossed over his chest. His entire persona was screaming, "Go ahead and entertain me."

"Did you find something in the wreckage of your search?" Barclay leaned against the chair. He felt oddly tired, strange.

Q grinned obnoxiously. "Of course I did! Half the stuff up there was from your room on the Enterprise, right?"

Barclay nodded, wondering where this was going.

"Including…" Q pulled a small, dark green leather-bound book seemingly from nowhere, "your diary."

"It's a journal." Barclay said automatically, before realizing that, _//oh crap, Q has found my _journal

Barclay eyed Q for a moment, "Q, give that back."

Q tapped his chin once with the book. "Hmm, me thinks not, Barclay. After all, finders keepers, losers weepers."

Barclay looked at Q, wanting desperately to just make the journal disappear. "I suppose it doesn't matter anyway, you must have read it…" He sighed, looking up at Q with his most forlorn expression.

"Of course I read it, what do you take me for?" Q laughed. "But oh wait, here's my favorite part." Q flipped open the book to a page with the corner folded down, and began to read.

"Dear journal thing, I just got back from seeing counselor Troi, she must be the most beautiful person on the ship… Honestly, and I don't know what to do about my attraction for her, she must know, she's empathic." At this point Q paused to look at  
Barclay, who could barely control his anger. "Really Reginald, your handwriting is horrendous. Anyway: Today, when we talked, she-"

Barclay couldn't take it; he reached forward and grabbed the book from Q's hands, and in one swift motion ripped it in two, right down the middle.

"Holy!" Q said, taking a step back. "You just tore up your diary!"

Barclay looked at the pieces of journal in his hands. "It was a journal…" He said lamely, "My journal. Q if you want to get out of this mess, you're going to have to learn from me. And that means you need to respect my privacy. At. All. Times." He glared at Q. "Is that understood?"

Q nodded numbly., "Sure, no more dia- journal reading."

"Good," Barclay sighed his trademark sigh and stood up, walking towards the stairs. "Good day to you, Q." He walked up the stairs, looking back once at Q who still stared dumbly at him.

Barclay collapsed on his bed, sighing again; he sat up, staring at the wall. "Good day indeed."

----

I stink at ending chapters... GAH! Oh well, I just thought all my loyale readers (Lets see... Uh one? Maybe two?) Should know that I don't just get writers block I get Writers Rubix cube. Which I have like, right now. Apologies.


	6. Chapter 6

Barclay got up what he assumed to be several hours later; it was hard to tell though. He wandered downstairs, and saw Q stretched out on the couch reading Shakespeare, Hamlet to be precise. Barclay wondered if he'd taken a leaf out of the captain's book, or vise versa. Q looked up to him and smiled almost truthfully. "Feeling better?"

Barclay sighed. "Do I look as though I am?" He walked into the kitchen, feeling hungry, but not really planning to eat.

"Not really." Q appeared in the archway. "Though I'm not surprised. Humans do tend to take things at face value."

Barclay glared at Q, surprised. "How else should I take things?"

"Well, you could realize it's supposed to be funny." Q said mildly, waving a hand in the air.

Barclay growled, furrowing his brow, "It's not funny to mess with people's emotions, Q. Especially when they try to help you!"

"Pft, please, you're just trying to help yourself get out of this mess!" Q said angrily.

"Yeah? SO!? You are too! You just want to pretend to understand humans so you can go back to your stupid, stupid existence!"

Q growled, taking, what was for him, a menacing step forward. "At least I'm not some stupid cry baby who can't do anything without help from the Captain, or LaForge."

"I don't need help for everything!" Barclay half whined, leaning back away from Q.

"Oh please, I read your diary, stupid; you admitted to yourself you need help for everything." Q glared some more, taking another step closer, raising his arms.

Barclay realized that this was not going to end well for him, so he did the only thing he remembered from self defense training. He kicked Q in the head.

Q crashed to the floor, yelling. He landed in a crumpled heap. "You kicked me!!! You pathetic Piece of Protoplasm! You kicked me!" He pulled a hand away from his head; a small trickle of blood fell over his eyebrow and dripped unceremoniously on the floor. Q stared at Barclay with a stupefied expression, then at the floor for several seconds before turning back to Barclay. "I don't believe it…" He glanced at Barclay, who was unsuccessfully trying to contain his laughter.

"Pathetic piece of protoplasm?" Barclay laughed, "What?"

"How can you laugh? You just kicked me!" Q looked at him as though he had grown a second head, out of his ear, wanting to scream, so he did. "Speaking of which, WHY DID YOU KICK ME IN THE HEAD!!!!!" He stared at Barclay as a thin trail of blood slid down from his hairline and dripped off his nose.

Barclay laughed again. "I have no idea!" he said joyously. "I didn't think you'd fall over like _that_, though." He laughed again, quietly, "Protoplasm, Ha!"

Q looked at Barclay, astounded, "Are you okay?" he said, getting up from the floor and wiping the blood from his head, looking disgustedly at it.

Barclay continued to laugh, "I have no clue! HA!" He clutched his stomach, laughing again, "It's not even funny! HAHA!" He practically doubled over with laughter. "Protoplasm! BUhahHA!" he laughed again, loudly. "Can't… Heheh, stop laughing, HAHAHAHA!" He snickered, "Pathetic… Protoplasm, Meha, HAH!"

Q looked at Barclay oddly, shaking his head; he reached over and grabbed a glass, filling it with water. "Okay, let's hope this works." He wiped the blood from his head with the back of his hand, looking at Barclay with another odd look.

"Works! WAHAHAH!" Barclay snorted, and laughed again.

Q shook his head and tossed the cold water on Barclay's face. Barclay immediately looked up, his face dripping with water. "Q!"

"What?" said Q, annoyed.

"Why did you do that?" Barclay wiped the water from his face.

"Why did you kick me in the head?"

"I didn't- Oh my god! Your head is bleeding!"

Q gaped at Barclay, "Yes, because you kicked me." He touched the wound again, surprised that it didn't hurt much at all.

"What? Uh, just stay there." He dashed into the other room and down the stairs, appearing a moment later with a first aid kit. "I got you covered, Q." He pushed Q into one of the nearby plaid, leather seats, and pulled out a band aid and some antiseptic. "Hold still." He applied the antiseptic carefully to the cut.

Q stared at him, leaning against the metal wood inlay counter, "Don't you remember?"

Barclay shook his head, pulling the huge band aid from its wrapper, "No, what?"

"You kicked me! You made my head bleed!" He pointed to the blood on his shirt.

Barclay slapped the band aid on Q's forehead, "Did not, I think I would remember that. How did you really get cut?" He eyed Q accusingly.

Q just shook his head. "Never mind Barclay, just never mind." He sighed and stood.

They exchanged an odd look and Q turned and walked out the archway door. He turned at the last minute, "Good night Barclay." He said mildly, and walked away.

Barclay turned and slumped against the counter, yawning. "That was awfully weird…. And I can't remember what happened for a while there, I really might have kicked him in the head, but why would I do that?" He shrugged. "This is perhaps the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me. But... maybe my whole life falls under the category of 'weird.'" He threw his head back and stared at the ceiling, wondering briefly where the lighting came from. He sighed nostalgically. "In fact, I'd have to say my life has been…" He glanced around briefly. "Funk-Delic!"

----

Authors note: I swear I wrote this whole story just so I could have Q say 'Pathetic Piece of Protoplasm', BTW, I have a plan for the plot!!


	7. Chapter 7

By Barclay's count it had been six months since their arrival at the House. But of course, he couldn't really tell. There wasn't a clock in the house. He measured by the salesperson a day thing. Barclay was amazed that he and Q had had no more mishaps. In fact, they had gotten along rather well after the first few days.

Barclay sat up in his bed, staring at the wall in boredom. He was about to say something to himself when he heard a knock on his bedroom door. Which was odd, so far Q hadn't knocked on his door once.

"Err, come in?"

Q slowly opened the door. "Barclay?" He asked with uncharacteristic restraint.

"Yes, Q what is it?" Barclay slid off his bed and stood facing Q.

"Hmm, I think we are supposed to go chop down some trees for firewood."

Barclay tilted his head. "Why would you say that Q?"

"Because, ever since that insurance salesmen came we have been experiencing weather, two handheld saws have just appeared, along with a hatchet, one of those maul things, and a wood burning stove in the main room." He shrugged. "Of course, I may be jumping to conclusions."

Barclay stared at Q open-mouthed. "Ah," he said brilliantly, "I see." He looked around his room briefly, then turned to Q. "Shoo, out, roust, etc. I need to change."

Q looked surprised for a second. "Oh! Oh, right." He left without any other hesitation.

A few minuets later Barclay and Q stood outside their house, staring at the expanse of woods before them.

Barclay slid the saw off his shoulders, "Where- no, sorry, when did this come?"

Q looked around, examining many of the nooks and crannies of the trees. "Judging by decomposition, light, texture, and," he sniffed, wrinkling his nose slightly, "_smell _I'd say it's been here about, oh… Five minutes."

Barclay grinned, "Well, okay then. Now that we're here, what do we do?"

Q looked at the trees as though they held the answers to all lives problems. "We… Make them fall down, then, make them smaller. And finally! We burn it all!" He laughed in an egomaniac manner. "Isn't it grand?"

"Sure Q, whatever." Barclay hoisted on of the axes and stepped up to a tree. He took aim for several seconds, and raised the axe above his shoulder. After a brief pause he swung the axe with all his strength.

A small chip of bark fell from the tree, which was totally unfazed.

Q immediately collapsed into a heap of giggles. "Oh! This is just too much! Oh, let me try!" He leapt up, snatching the axe from the stunned Barclays hands and lining up his shot.

Within seconds the tree was lying on the ground and Barclay was staring dumbfounded at Q.

"HOW!?"

"What?" Q said, obviously not disconcerted with the fact he had felled the tree in mere seconds.

"You- that- the tree- falling… Guwah."

"Brilliant, Barclay, really brilliant. Should we try three words next?" Q kicked the tree, "Tell you what, I'll use my mad skills to chop down the trees, you see if you can't cut them up real small like m'kay?"

Barclay nodded, still untrusting of his voice.

"Good. Have fun Broccoli."

"Don't call me that."

"Why? I should be able to call you what I wish." Q crossed his arms and leaned non-chalantly against a nearby tree.

"Anything but Broccoli." He begged

"Fine, for now." Q hoisted his axe and began his chopping again.

Within the space of several hours, three trees lay on the ground and Barclay was struggling desperately to keep up.

"Q, slow down. Too many trees, can't keep up." He panted.

"Not very fit, are you?" Q said, leaning against another tree. He hadn't even broken a sweat.

"My. Job. Is. Harder." He said, punctuating each word with a swing from his axe.

"I think you're exaggerating." He raised his axe again. "One more tree and we are done!"

"Sure. Q. Whatever."

"You doubt me?"

"Yes."

"Why would you doubt me?"

Barclay leaned on his axe, still panting. "You. Are. Stupid."

"What!?" With that, Q took another swing at the tree. But he wasn't looking and totally misjudged his aim. With the final blow, the tree cracked and groaned. Leaning precariously, it swung round and slowly slid towards Q.

Q stared at the tree falling towards him. "Shi-"

"Q!" Barclay took a leap and pushed Q out of the way, at the same second the tree crushed him.

"Oh my god! Barclay!" Q scrambled towards the crushed form of Barclay.

"I'm f-fine, Q." said the obviously not fine Barclay. He lay face down in the muck of the forest floor. A river of blood pouring from beneath him. "Totally okay. No Hck, problems here."

"Shut up, Reg. Talking will not help."

"Oh, oww, Kay."

"Shut up!" Q scrambled around the log. He knew he would be unable to lift it using strength. Instead he grabbed another near log and stuck it under the one crushing Barclay. Using his brain, he quickly calculated and placed pressure on the smaller log. The one that had injured Barclay rose to the air and crashed down the ravine behind them.

"That, did, not, feel good." Barclay said, trying to rise.

"Hold still idiot!" Q rushed over. "Are you oka- uh, is anything broken?"

"No…"

"Then hold still." Q grabbed Barclay and hauled him to his feet. He roped and arm around Barclay's middle and in this way they walked towards the House.

But Barclay lost consciousness long before then.


	8. Chapter 8

Q was not surprised to find a Doctor sitting on the living room couch. He was surprised to find a brown-haired, blue-eyed Doctor with a spotty complexion.

"God Dammint Q!" He shouted, laying Barclay gently on the couch. "What did you do!"

"You swung the blow at the tree, idiot. It's your fault it fell on him." The other Q shook his head at the bleeding Barclay, "It's a shame, he had so much to live for. Oh well."

"Stop. Fix him, I know you can."

"Whatever Q, I cant, I am but a lowly Doctor. It's a shame the_ Enterprise_ isn't here to help."

"Then bring him back to the _Enterprise_, you evil son of a-"

"Really Q! Why should I do that? It's been months and he hasn't taught you anything. If I brought him back now the scenario would be over. You would never get your powers back."

Q didn't even hesitate. "I don't care; bring him back to the _Enterprise_."

The other Q gaped at him, "You're really bad at this, you know? I would have settled for less."

"Shut up, he's dieing."

The other Q shrugged, and snapped his fingers.

Q was used to changes in scenery, so it didn't bother him when he suddenly appeared on the_ Enterprise_ with a bloody Barclay. He let out a shout and six ensigns ran over. One of them keyed his comm.

"Ensign Tomalley to sick bay, medical emergency!"

Q knew everything was out of his hands now. He leaned over Barclay and grinned. "Worry not," He whispered, "Crusher isn't nearly as inept as I make her out to be."

But she was still only human, and could only run so fast.


	9. Chapter 9

Q sat in the waiting room of the sickbay, totally oblivious to his surroundings. He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable. Very soon, he was sure; Picard and probably Worf would burst through the door and yell at him. But he refused to care. He was just waiting for the Doctor to tell him the news of Barclay's recovery, or something worse.

As if they knew his thoughts, through the door burst a very angry Jean-luc Picard walking through.

"Dammint Q, what have you done now?" Picard was positively seething.

Q furrowed his brow, again surprised that Picard was so stupid and obtuse, "Nothing, except give up everything for that stupid lieutenant of yours."

"What are you talking about?"

"This is going to sound unbelievable, but here goes. Barclay and I have been stuck together in what you would consider and alternate universe for nearly six months now. To you and your ship, no time has passed, to us, well, you know. I had lost my powers over there, and when he was injured I traded them so that he could come back and be treated by your doctor."

"Why should I believe that?" Picard said, clearly not wanting to believe it even if face with irrefutable evidence.

"Because he is telling the truth." The duo turned and saw Barclay leaning over, clutching his stomach. "All that is true."

Q was standing in a flash, "Damn you Barclay, go lie down. You're severely injured."

"Am not."

"A tree fell on you!"

Picard turned to give him the evil eye, "A what fell on him?"

"Tree…" Q said in an embarrassed manner, "Didn't mean to, it's his stupid fault anyway. Had to go and push me out of the way."

"Shut up Q." Barclay said with an uncharacteristic grin, "I've come to tell you I figured it out."

Picard now looked thoroughly confused, "What are you talking about?"

"Look, captain, the whole reason Q and I were stuck together is because I was supposed to teach him about humanity. Of course, I couldn't before because I didn't know either."

"But now you do, and it's too late. My chance is gone anyway." Q sighed, "Just go rest Barclay."

"No, Q, I think you should know the answer." Barclay grinned, "Because this is the only time it will sink in." He stepped past the confused Picard to lay a hand on Q's shoulder, "Life is about living, not being afraid. It isn't about always getting what you want, but taking the good, the bad, and everything in-between along with it. Its not about omnipotence, it's about you." His smile spread across his face. "Get it?"

And to Q's immense surprise, he did. He understood and was astounded at himself for not realizing sooner. "I feel like an idiot."

"Good you deserve it." There was a popping noise and the other Q appeared, "It took you long enough, thanks Barclay."

"Ah, my pleasure." Barclay took a step away from the other Q. "Any time, as long as you ask instead of kidnap."

The other Q let out a satanic laugh, "Right, well here you go Q, powers." There was a snap and Q sat up straight. Another snap and the other Q disappeared.

"Wow," said Picard, "I didn't even get the whole story, and it was still anti climatic."

Q grinned, and held out his hand to Barclay, who took it. They shook hands and there was a flash.

Barclay looked down at himself. "Pains gone!"

"Correction, wounds gone." Q said. "And in a minute, the annoyance will be gone when I leave."

Barclay frowned, "Thank you Q," He said, "For real."

Q smiled, "Word of advice?"

"Sure."

"When you talk to yourself, don't speak so loudly."

Barclay gulped, "Will do, Q."

Q smiled, and raised his hand. He turned and nodded to Picard who had a strange look on his face, "What? No Q get out of my sick bay?"

Picard just shook his head. The strange look getting stranger.

Q shrugged, and with a snap, he was gone.


	10. Epilogue

Epilogue:

After Q's departure, Picard and the rest of the crew got the low down from Barclay. The only comment afterwards came from Geordi who was just happy they both benefited. Q learned and Barclay found out that being a sniveling whelp wasn't very helpful.

And when Barclay finally got to return to his quarters, he found a green leather bound book waiting for him. On the front, in gold embossed letters read 'Journal'. On the inside cover in a flowing handwritten font was, 'Because, in your immense stupidity, you had to go and rip up your diary, Q.' All Barclay could do was smile; after all, Q wasn't nearly as bad as people said he was.


End file.
